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by CheyF



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Closest thing I've written to an Endgame fixer, F/M, My first attempt at smut?, PWP, Social media made me do it, They get home sex, literally no plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-02
Updated: 2017-09-02
Packaged: 2018-12-22 21:02:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11974956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CheyF/pseuds/CheyF
Summary: It's PWP and super short. I suppose it could qualify as a post-endgame-C/7-were-never-a-thing story.





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**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a post on social media today about the plentiful J/7 fics lately. Written and edited with wine and good music and cats over a 45 minute period. Team J/C! :-p
> 
> My first attempt at a PWP (what am I thinking?!) So I'd love any feedback. :)

She felt the whisper of a whoosh of air tickle her skin as the door closed behind him.

Pretending that she didn’t notice, she kept her back towards him as she fidgeted with her coffee mug on the dining table. 

It was their first moment alone since they’d gotten home two weeks ago. Their first moments without Starfleet brass. Without Voyagers. Without family members and media. With each other. In the quiet. No barriers.

“Your sister’s gone until she picks us up.” His hands caressed her shoulders, his thumbs sliding unencumbered under the silky material of her blouse.

“It’s about time.” A huge breath pressed past her lips as she continued to stare down into her coffee.

“We haven’t seen each other for weeks.” His warm, large palms slid down, pausing at the swell of her breasts, then swooping to cup the sensitive mounds as she pressed into him with a sigh.

“But now we only have time.” Her head fell back to his chest when one of his hands pushed lower, catching on the folds of the material across her taut stomach and dragging roughly down.

His fingers deftly released the button at the waist of her pants then shimmied low into the velvety skin between her thighs. Her next exhale hitched and she released a high-pitched, breathless, nonsensical plea. 

He bent to her shoulder, perfect teeth latching onto pale, freckled flesh. He bit hard as she arched, his fingers thrusting into her as her legs fell askew across the seat of the armless dining chair. 

As her hips rose to the rhythm of his middle and index fingers spearing her slick passage, she lifted her arms above her head to loop about his neck. It allowed him to nudge the chair to the side as he pulled her up and slipped in behind her.

She sobbed with need, desperate for more, her exhausted mind losing the ability to communicate coherently, even with his slightest attentions.

Standing them up, he grasped the waistband of her slacks and pulled down, skillfully leaving her bottom half bared.

She gasped and keened, a growl rumbling in her throat, eyes clenched shut and mouth wide as she sucked in oxygen. 

Moving his lips closer to her throat along her collar bone, he sucked until he felt her skin heat with the rush of blood to the damaged vessels before he nipped on, reaching the slope of her neck.

Before he bit into her, he thrust his thick digits deep and whispered into her ear. “It’s just me.”

Another frantic moan. 

“Oh, God.” Crying out, she pushed back into him as she voiced her appeal over and over again. 

Expertly, he unclipped the closure to his pants, dropping them to his ankles, and wrapping his arm around her middle, encouraging her to bend over the table.

She rested her forehead on the back of her hands, as she anchored herself with her elbows and shoved her hips back towards him.

Running his hands flat along her back, brushing from hips to shoulders then down again, he gripped her hips and ground against her, his penis dragging along the quivering cradle of her sex. She enthusiastically rose on her toes so she could rub against him harder.

He couldn’t wait any longer. Reaching down between them, he pumped heartily into his fist once, twice. He released her completely and she stayed frozen as he spread her with one hand, then thrust into her in a smooth, deep stroke. 

Still.

Blood pumping hotly against his pores, throbbing with adoration, he connected with her.

Gripping her hips, his fingers wedged between her and the acute edge of the dark table beneath them to soften the recoil of his frantic pace as he slammed against her. 

“Harder!” She demanded as she bit down on her fist.

He pulled back on her, taking her halfway off the table so he could lock his arm around and gain more leverage without ramming her painfully into the furniture. 

The other hand snaked down her front again, scratching lightly until his fingertips tickled the underside of him as she swallowed him up. 

Spreading the moisture, he raked his nails through her folds, heel of his hand stopping against her pubic bone and she squeaked when he pounded into her from behind grating her sensitive nerve endings into his unforgiving assault. 

Pressing closer, he ran his tongue along the bony protrusions between her shoulder blades all the way to the nape, where her mussed hair plastered to her scalp with fresh sweat.

This time when he bit into the thin skin behind her ear, she screamed, legs shaking. He roared, thrusts beating into her in an unpredictable tattoo as he came.

He kept thrusting even after he was spent, the messy aftermath sending jolts of pleasure through her skin as his mouth sucked fervently and his palm swirled against her. The arm about her raised to cup her cheek so she would turn her head and kiss him, their lips meeting as starbursts exploded behind her eyelids and her ears started ringing. 

As she let herself fall from her elbows onto the table, he reached back and found the chair, situating it so he could shuffle just a bit and sit down safely, keeping her with him.

Her limbs were limp and spasming from aftershocks. She spread across his lap, legs parting as her feet dangled on the other side of his knees once she kicked her pants from around the foot they still imprisoned. His hand never left her as he caressed her towards another peak, her sensitivity and excited responses one of the things that he’d loved about her from the beginning.

Minutes later, they sat in a daze in the same position, his hands lazily exploring her as he sat back further, legs splaying her wider as he opened his knees further. The sight of her stirred him again, but he was slow to rise, allowing him to enjoy the whimpers burgeoning in the back of her throat as he relentlessly prodded and twisted until she was dripping into his lap, hands searching for purchase again as she begged him to have mercy.

Instead, he guided her to turn around and straddle him, holding himself erect below her so she could sink down easily, wrapping around him as her chest heaved.

Hands on his shoulders, she pulled herself up and plunged down again wetly, capturing his mouth hungrily. Her teeth pulled on his bottom lip as she repeated her actions, progressively slowing her movements until they rocked together tightly.

This time, the tremors were much subtler, but the pulsing of her inner muscles was enough to set off a sympathetic orgasm, the shooting of his semen a tired testament to his increasing age, but satisfying just the same.

“I’ll never be able to eat in here with a straight face again.”

“One room down, and it isn’t even our house.” He watched her skin flush rosy at the innuendo.

“Oh God, what if Owen sits here for breakfast?” Her half-lidded eyes gazed into his.

“Kathryn, I don’t think he’s a breakfast kind of guy.” He continued to hold her to him as she stretched and yawned, cat-like against him.

“We have three days before we go back to reality, and it’s only a cabin. It’s not like we’re fucking on the Admiral’s desk.”

“Chakotay!” She swatted at him, but laid against him, ear to his torso as it rumbled with laughter.

“We’re home.” He kissed her hair.

“Indeed.” Her lips moved into a smile.


End file.
